Lamentations of the Scale
by Viktor Mayrin
Summary: Dragon AU. Horrible things have happened. The Treasureless War comes to a close as the ones responsible can no longer outrun their fate. And in the ruining darkness, a single light burns brightly. Hope is returned to those who need it most. A tale that spans centuries has begun. Will you join me for its telling?
1. Prelude

Lamentations of the Scale

By Viktor Mayrin

_A/N: Well, this is it. The first installment of my Dragon AU story (with a ton of help form Passivefan and Somewhatnewtothis on Tumblr). There is a ton of lore and related reading material on my tumblr page, and most of the questions that you might ask can be answered there under the "Lamentations of the Scale" tag. Passivefan and Somewhatnewtothis also have similar tags on their blogs that are worth reading because I have a tendency to forget to tag this. There is a link in my profile that leads to the _Lamentations of the Scale _tag on tumblr, but it _is_ rife with spoilers._

**Prologue **

Kal'Rensakal, better known as Ren to his friends and students, gently closed the eyes of the fallen Quetzal, shaking his head sadly. He ran his talons through her plumage, now sullied with her blood, and shook his sinuous body, as if that would somehow erase the guilt that welled up in his stomach. He had taught her magic when she had been barely a century old, and now he had been the one to kill her. Much like the rest of the slain dragons in the Grand Hatchery. He murmured a few words in the Old Tongue, a prayer to Rossamund to accept the fallen into His kingdom.

The sound of crunching gravel brought the Imperial dragon out of his prayer in an instant. An abomination wearing a human's body took in the surrounding carnage. He smiled, a thing of terror and malignancy, as he turned to Ren.

"Kal'Rensakal." The Grimm breathed the name like he was aroused by it. "You are a _masterpiece_ of death and destruction. What I would give to have collected you."

Ren growled, the sound starting deep in his belly and scrambling up to his throat. "I am what I _need_ to be, Longrim. This... _catastrophe_ is your doing. I knew it then, when poor Scylla's mind began to fragment and reports of eggs missing or broken began to appear before the Elder Council. And I have never hated myself more than I do now, surrounded by the bodies of my former students." He turned around, his form shimmering as the magic drifting from the corpses was absorbed into his scales. "And I have _paid_ the price. Every hatchling that I have cut down, every friend that I have killed, _even the eggs that I have had to destroy_," there was a pulse as Ren became human, "it has all lead to this moment."

The Grimm's smiled widened. "Oh, this is _too much_. You're so dramatic, Ren." His chuckle was dark and moist, much like rotting flesh. "So you've become the very thing you're fighting against."

"_Do. Not. Address me as if we are friends!" _Ren roared, his hair flaring out behind him as magic once again suffused his body. "You are nothing more than a monster given form and flesh!"

Ren made a curious motion with his left hand. Molten metal spooled out, forming an elegant spear covered in runes and reeking of magic. The Grimm peered at the weapon, curiosity dancing in his dark eyes. "Tell me, Kal'Rensakal. Do you plan to kill me today?"

"I do." Ren hissed. "With great relish, I might add."

"Ah. And pray tell, how do you plan to do _that?_ After all, I've taken some... _precautions_."

Ren spat onto the ground derisively. "Did you mean the traitor, Ce'Thyndra? I've already seen to her." He spun the spear, trails of magic wafting away from it as it made its rotation. "Tell me, did you corrupt her as well? Or did she join you of her own will?"

"Does it matter? She served her purpose well. I will miss her when I am done with you, though. She was such a fiery little thing. And to think, I was hoping that Scylla's girls might have some siblings down the line. Now I'll have to hunt down a new-"

Ren lashed out with his right hand, black and orange magic twisting into a lethal arc of starstuff. As the wave melted the rock around it, Ren threw a gigantic shard of ice at the ground. As the two extremes collided, steam exploded into a massive cloud.

"I _sincerely_ hope you didn't think your magic would harm me, Ren." The Grimm called as he slowly moved through the haze. "Because that would make me so sad, to find out that the most competent spell-caster would underestimate me so much."

The Grimm tilted his head slightly. Even with his draconic senses, sound had been muted. He frowned. "Ren, what are-"

The spear, its runes a fiery gold, exploded through the steam. The Grimm stumbled back as it dug deep into his chest, pouring molten magic directly into him. He coughed, red and gold mingling together as the spattered against the floor. He grabbed the spear, only to flinch away as his hands began to bubble. As he sunk to his knees, the pain finally exploded from his chest and began to spread through his body like a wildfire.

"Ren!" He gasped. "Ren, you fucking worm! What have you _done_?!"

The steam cleared as a gust of wind surged through the cavern. Ren stood at the far end, his arm extended from throwing the spear. "I've killed you." He said as he began to walk across the cavern. "_Permanently_, I might add."

"_Impossible_! Scylla is still-"

Ren grabbed the man by his shirt and lifted him into the air. "_SCYLLA IS DEAD_!" He roared. "_DEAD BY __**MY**__ HAND_! I _found_ her, broken and insane, weeping for her _hatchlings_. What I did was a _mercy_. What you did to _her_, you despicable excuse of a human-" Ren grabbed the spear and twisted it, "what you did to _her_, will haunt me for the rest of my years."

"You've a lot of nerve to preach to-"

Ren threw him to the ground, letting out a roar of rage. "_HOW MANY ABOMINATIONS DID YOU FORCE HER TO BIRTH? HOW LONG DID YOU TORTURE HER UNTIL SHE BROKE?_" He kicked the prone form viciously, each strike punctuated by a blast of magic. He reached down again and grabbed the man by his hair. "There is no Titan that would condone your actions. No human God that would forgive you. In the Faunus theology, you would suffer through each and every one of the fourteen levels of Hell." He hissed, fury written across his face. "Scylla was but a child. She _gave you her heart_. And you have _squandered_ her gift."

As the Grimm writhed in agony, Ren withdrew a curved blade from his belt. "This weapon was forged from her blood, Longrim. Forged with the express purpose of sending you to Rossamund's Kingdom with all your travesties and transgressions carved into your body. Dragons to not look kindly on those who cause harm to our hatchlings."

"What-" He began to gasp.

Ren ripped the spear out of the Grimm's chest in a single motion, eliciting a howl of agony. "You will die this day, Longrim. But not before I have carved the name of every dragon that you have killed or corrupted into your flesh. And then, when I have finished, you will be given into the talons of Rossamund. And even I, in my rage, do not wish to dwell on the retribution that will be enacted upon you."

Ren placed the point of the blade on the Grimm's forehead and began to carve the name 'Scylla' as the once-human began to scream.

LotS

The doors to the Elder Council's chamber shook as Ren took slow and deliberate steps forward. He dragged the corpse of Longrim in his left hand, and in his right hand he held the blade, crusted over with blood. The Elders eyes him warily, worried whispers shooting across the Titan Rock. As Ren reached the stone, he threw the corpse onto the surface. After a moment, he leapt onto the rock and plunged the blade down to the hilt into the body.

"It. Is. _Done_." He snarled, regaining his dragonshape. "The Treasureless War is _over_."

"Kal'Rensakal-" Eris began, her plumage puffing out in annoyance.

He rounded on her, his eyes flashing with fury and acid dripping from his mouth. "Do you have something to say to me, _traitor_?" He snarled. "Some _platitude_ that might save your scales? Longrim operated with _your_ approval, as it turns out." He tossed a blood-spattered scroll onto the rock. "Nora is so ashamed that she cannot even bear to face you. She could not believe that _her own Dam_ would be party to this."

The rest of the council members recoiled in shock as Eris twitched nervously. "Kal-"

"_SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH, YOU SCALELESS EGG BREAKER_."

"I would _never-_"

Ren lunged forward. Eris scrambled backwards, her wings fouling in the small space as the Imperial dragon slammed into her. There was a blast of magic, the tang of Primal forces filling the chamber, as Ren roared in the Old Tongue. Eris writhed as chains made of magma and diamond encircled her and pinned her to the floor. "You would never _what_, Eris? Sell out your own hatchlings? Or the hatchlings of your friends? Or perhaps you would never turn a blind eye to one of your kind being broken down, bit by bit, and being forced to birth _monsters_?" He hissed, acid spraying from his mouth. "Tell me, what did he _promise_ in return for your silence? What could possibly tempt an _Elder_ into betraying her own kind?"

"We were _stagnating_-"

Ren reared back and opened his mouth, a cone of virulent pink liquid spraying out. Eris let out a shriek of terror as the substance began to harden on her scales and feathers while emitting a hissing noise. Vesch and Taradine, the Regal Elders, let out quiet gasps of fear as the pink substance began to writhe on Eris's body. Tolroth, the Lindwyrm Elder, flinched in recognition of the substance, her wings flexing agitatedly.

"_Ren_." Ter'Agave, the Imperial Elder, whispered sadly. "What's _happened_ to you?"

He turned slowly, pink liquid still dribbling from his jaws. "I have given _everything_ for this." He hissed. "I willingly gave myself to the Titans, _Quelmar_. I was made into an instrument with _one purpose_. _I_ called the Occidentals from Karagatan's back. _I_ brought the Humans and the Faunus into this war." With each confession, he took another step towards Eris. "I have _spoken_ with the Titans these last three years. Each day has weighed upon my conscience as this war dragged on. I have felt every death and every misery committed. My _purpose_," he spat the word as if it was offensive, "is to put an end to this."

He stopped in front of Eris, the Quetzal's struggles slowing every moment. "Eris. Elder Quetzal of the Fourth Council. You are charged with Egg Theft, Egg Breaking, Consumption of Hatchlings, Consumption of Humans, Consumption of Faunus, and Willful Destruction of the Grand Hatchery." He leaned in, pink fluid once more dripping from his fangs. "_How. Do. You. Plead._"

Eris' remaining eye quivered in terror. The pink mucus solidified. "_No._" She croaked.

"_Guilty. As. Charged._" Ren snarled. "_Dezwa _Summer Rose."

There was a pulse of magic as almost a hundred Occidentals swarmed into the council chambers. An albino Occidental glided forward and landed next to Ren. "Titansworn." She murmured. "What is your command?"

"Carry this filth to the jaws of Karagatan. And search her caves." Ren said, sagging visibly. "My rage is spent."

"By your leave." She motioned with a wing towards the still form of Eris. "Tonight Karagatan will have the creature responsible for her sorrows these past years. Miria, take your _Dezfa_ to the caves of Eris and clear them. I will be along shortly."

In moments the crowd of Occidentals had removed Eris from the chambers. Summer stood before Ren, her tail twitching. "Come closer, young one." She motioned with her foretalons. "Your task is finished."

Ren dipped his snout, lowering himself to the rock. Summer gently placed her talons around his snout and laid her head upon his nose. "Kal'Rensakal of Ter'Agave and Vol'ker. Rest now, Good and Faithful servant."

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow. "_Thank you_."

Summer gently tapped his nose and turned to the remaining Elders. "The Fourth Council is disbanded." She declared. "Go to your caves. Find what is left of your brethren. I have already informed the Humans and the Faunus. Tonight we grieve. Tomorrow, we rebuild."

As the four dragons quietly left the room, Nora poked her head in. "Ren?" She called out plaintively. "Ren?"

Summer turned, her eyes focusing on the Quetzal. "He is here, Noradine. Resting. Please, he will need your support when he awakens."

Nora rushed across the chamber, beating her wings once to glide onto the rock. She tentatively sniffed Ren as he breathed quietly. She let out a small chirp as she curled into the space inside his coiled body and laid her head on his neck. Summer inclined her head once, and glided to the exit of the room.

"Rest easy, for the hardest task has been completed."

LotS

"_Dezwa_!" Miria cried as she leaped off a sidewall into the main cave. "_Dezwa_! There's a living egg! Come quickly! It's hatching!"

As one, the Occidentals in the cave turned in surprise. Summer chucked a tome aside and in an instant of magic, she was next to Miria. "Show me!"

Miria raced back into the tunnels, foam and water drifting from her wings as she invoked magic to speed her back to the side chambers. Summer tore after her, Karagatan's voice echoing in the back of her mind to hurry. After a tense few moments, Miria abruptly turned and leaped from the walls into a cavern full of shattered eggs. Summer flinched as they landed amongst the shards.

"Over here." Miria whispered as she weaved her way through the shells.

Summer's jaw opened, letting out a small gasp as she gazed upon the egg. It was a pale cream color, with veins of gold running from top to bottom. The gold pulsed brightly, even there was no fire and no way to keep the egg warm. Summer felt her heart flutter at the sight of it.

A great cracking noise filled the cavern, echoing off the far walls as the egg suddenly tipped and fell to the ground. Both females shot forward as the egg shattered to reveal a perfectly formed Regal hatchling. As he began to let out short chirps, Summer scooped him into her talons gently.

"Oh Karagatan." She whispered in awe. "What price has been paid for this one to survive against all odds?"

Miria crooned gently to the hatchling as they slowly moved from the room, Karagatan's voice echoing in their thoughts.

[_In the darkest night, there is always Hope, children. Never look away from that light._] She whispered. [_Let Arconius shine brightly._]

- End Prologue -


	2. First Lament

Lamentations of the Scale

By Viktor Mayrin

_A/N: A friendly reminder that there is a tag on my tumblr blog that contains a lot of background/lore information for this story. I have a link in my profile, but be warned that there are spoilers in the tag!_

**First Lament**

"Nikos!" The Matron barked out as she stalked through the training court. "Fall in! You're done for the day. Astra! Cadmium! Stop gawking and tend to your recruits!"

Most of the recruits had frozen as the elderly woman, clad in mithril chainmail, stood imperious in the doorway. The Valkyrie in question, a red-haired woman clad in a cotton tunic and breeches with a leather chestplate, nearly dropped her axes as she tried to snap to attention _and_ defend herself from her sparring partner. Her partner stepped back, allowing her enough space to recover her stance.

Pyrrha Nikos dropped out of her stance and bowed to her opponent, one of the rare men in the Valkyries. He nodded in return and took her training weapons from her as she hurried after the Matron. The older woman seemed to ignore her as she stalked through the halls.

"Nikos, how long have you been a Valkyrie?" She said abruptly as they moved from the training complex into the command complex.

"Nigh on five years, Matron." She replied crisply.

"Hnn. You ever encounter a dragon in your tours?"

"Just once. A grayscaled Lindwyrm as it passed."

The Matron shook her head. "Raemonik. Damn shame. She was one of the few who survived the Grimm War." She stopped in front of a nondescript door. "Anyway, we've got some news. A Regal was seen in the mountains near the border. It's odd, especially since the Fifth Council has been trying to reign in the younger dragons as of late."

Pyrrha waited patiently as the Matron produced an elaborate key and unlocked the door. As they entered the room, Pyrrha felt the pulse of magic. She glanced around, taking note of the artifacts and books as they approached the apparatus that dominated the center of the room.

"Ganymede." The Matron called out. "Anything new on our errant Regal?"

A woman, her head encased in a strange helmet that covered all but her mouth, seemed to pull herself out of the machine. "He has found a cave entrance in the cliffs near Phyrol. Appears to have settled. More details... yellow detailing upon cream scale. Blue eyes. Appears smaller than should be. Perhaps orphan clutch. Recommend action."

The Matron made a disinterested noise as she pulled a large map down. "Damn. That's bloody close to Phyrol." She looked up to Ganymede. "How long before we get a reply from the Errant-Dragoons?"

"Indeterminable. Signal is disrupted by Dust Veins and draconic magic."

"Hrmm. Nikos?"

"Matron."

"Hit your quarters and prepare your kit. Mountainous terrain and Dragon-gear. I need you to look into this."

"Aye, ma'am."

- / -

"Going somewhere, Princess?"

Pyrrha whipped her arm out, a seven-inch blade whistling as it streaked out towards the intruder. Blake Belladonna casually caught the blade from the air and spun it. "Twitchy. What's on your mind, Highness?"

The Faunus, a pair of feline ears perking from the top of her head, flipped the knife and caught the hilt deftly as she closed the door silently. Her body was obscured in a longcoat made of black leather, though the seams had been sewn with a white thread. A white emblem in the shape a flame was stitched onto the left breast of the coat, whilst the crest of House Mistral was embroidered on each shoulder.

"Blake." Pyrrha motioned with her hand and caught the knife when the woman tossed it back to her. "Sorry. Everyone's on edge. An errant Regal was spotted by the borders, and the Matron is sending me." She re-sheathed the knife on her arm and continued to carefully pack the rucksack on her bead. "I don't think I'm really the right person for this, though."

The Faunus rolled her eyes and began to inspect the small room. "Highness, you underestimate yourself. It's just a Regal, not the Grimm." Blake picked up a sheaf of papers. "Hmmm. Interesting. I think I _know_ this dragon. White scales and yellow detailing, correct?"

Pyrrha swiped the papers from the woman. "Yes. And _you're_ not supposed to be reading that." She folded the papers and shoved them into a leather wallet. "Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be back at the estate?"

"Your mother is worried." She drawled. "She's wondering when you're going to come home and get married."

Pyrrha's shoulders hunched as she closed the rucksack. "I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm not-" She swallowed thickly. "I'm not really the type for that. I'm rubbish with children."

Blake made a dismissive noise in the back of her throat. "Everyone is, Highness. Oh, by the by, the dragon you're going to be seeing? He's not your typical dragon."

"What does _that_ mean?" Pyrrha looked to her left, confused.

A single piece of paper drifted to the ground, the Faunus having already departed, though the door had not been opened. Pyrrha picked up the sheet and began to inspect it. There was a sharp rap on the door.

"Come along, Nikos! Last convoy is departing withing the hour!" The Matron called.

"Aye, Matron! Just a moment!"

As Pyrrha stuffed the note into a pocket on her rucksack, it glowed, the single draconic rune swirling as it was alive.

- / -

Jaune (or Arconius, if you spoke to a dragon that had witnessed the Treasureless War) carefully began to snuff out the spheres of light he had conjured onto the walls of the cavern. His expedition into the cave system had been largely successful, with over thirty different caverns, as well as two underground springs and three different Dust veins. It would be more than enough room for whatever he would likely scrounge together, and it was far enough away from the Dragonlands that the Council would likely just leave him to his own devices rather than try and have him return. While there were other dragons in the area, they were far enough away that the likelihood of stumbling into their territory was almost non-existent.

After a moment, he finished snuffing the magic and ambled back down the main cavern, his nostrils flaring as he scented his way back to the largest Dust vein. As he navigated, he called a string of runes into existence. The danced in the air around him, their otherworldly glow casting odd shadows in the narrow corridor. "I'll have to widen these in a few decades." He mused to himself. "Or sooner, depending on what happens."

As he approached the pulsing vein of Dust, he settled on his haunches and extended his talons for a moment before closing them into fists. With a word, the runes around him exploded outwards and attached themselves to the mineral deposit, Jaune's eyes glowed, the normal blue coloring replaced by a primal gold. He lapsed into the Esoteric verse, his eyes heavily lidded as the runes drifted back to his talons.

After a moment, the runes drifted to the ground and vanished, leaving a rather dull chest on the ground in front of him. He settled onto his front talons and sniffed the chest, once more committing the scents contained to memory. After a few moments, he tapped the iron box with the tip of his nose, a single rune inscribing itself on the locking mechanism.

"I should survey that canyon." He mumbled to himself as he made his way towards the plateau caverns. "Figure out if that lake has any fish... or if there's a local herd of something."

As he emerged from the caverns, the evening light washed over his scales. He sighed in contentment as he stretched his wings. "I might widen those tunnels anyway."

He broke into a loping run and launched himself off the plateau, his wings beating rapidly as he climbed his way into the sky.

- / -

"Look, can ye jus' take a moment and _talk_ t' the bloody creatures?" The merchant huffed. "All me business is dryin' up 'cause folk got no sense. I know Valkyries are the ones that take care o' this nonsense, right?"

Pyrrha sighed in resignation as she handed over a handful of Lien coins to him and grabbed her purchase. "Fine. Where are they?"

"Jus' down a piece. Right on by the mess tents." The merchant returned a pair of the coins to her. "They make folk real nervous-like."

Pyrrha took her changed and pocketed it as she stepped out of the tent. She glanced towards the mess tents. She spotted them immediately. As she approached, she let the knife under her left elbow slide down into her hand, her expression wary and her magic roiling in her mind, waiting for release. One of them abruptly looked up to her as she neared them, its vermillion eyes narrowing.

They were Occidental dragons. Rare this far inland simply because they preferred to be deployed near water. At their shoulder, they were easily four feet tall and from snout to tail measured almost nine feet. The most notable characteristic was their frills, made to maneuver in water rather than air. Pyrrha froze as the leader, a _Dezfa_ by the markings on its crest and wings, advanced on her, its scales glinting in the mid-morning sun. It sniffed her casually and let out a brief hum before sitting on its haunches like a dog.

"Valkyrie." He said, annoyance evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"There's been a sighting." She said carefully. "A Regal well outside of the established territories."

The dragon narrowed his eyes and made a curious noise to his comrades. There was a series of chirps and a trill in return from an Occidental with a much larger variety of symbols on its body, and it indicated the nearby mountains. The _Dezfa_ turned back to her, huffing a little. "A small matter that we have no time for, even if we were interested. We're here on a different matter. Word is that someone's been peddling White Fang propaganda recently. A male Faunus with feathers instead of hair."

Pyrrha felt her blood run cold. "I hadn't heard."

"Well, we _have_. Is there an Eye of Truth outpost in the area?"

Pyrrha slid the knife back into its sheathe as she rubbed her lips for a moment. "Mayhap to the east. About ten miles or so, I think." She replied after a moment. "Though it's a small outpost."

"It'll do." The _Dezfa_ said sharply. "Good luck with your quarry. There's not many Regals willing to roost out of the Dragonlands, so it's likely you're dealing with an early egg. And by Karagatan, make sure it stays _away_ from Lysandra's territory, if the damn thing is male. The last thing I want in my pod dealing with is a nesting dam."

"I'll make a note of it." Pyrrha replied. "And you might want to hurry. The humans around here are getting restless."

"Damned silly." The heavily-marked Occidental chirped, her voice strangely high. "It isn't as if we'll eat them. I quite like humans. Now if only they weren't so fragile-"

"Save your breath, Ceris." The leader snapped. "We'll depart momentarily. And you best be careful in the mountains, Valkyrie. Spring thaws are kicking up quite a windstorm at higher altitudes. If you're jumping, you'll want to stick to the lee side of rock formations so you don't end up as a smear."

"Thank you for the advice." Pyrrha inclined her head instinctively.

"Don't thank me just yet. You'll have a worse time of it when you finally pin down your Regal." He huffed and turned back to the other three Occidentals, a lilting baritone hum issuing from his throat.

In a flash, the four dragons dashed to the edge of the encampment and leaped into the sky, their wings beating fiercely. Pyrrha let out a breath as she made her way back to the merchant stall. She pushed the flap aside and stuck her head in. "They've gone."

"Ah, thank ya' kindly!" The man bowed to her. "Have a safe trip, milady!"

Pyrrha waved as she closed the flap and turned towards the mountain range. "Better get this over with." She muttered to herself. "It's only going to get worse from here on out."

- / -

Weiss Schnee hurried down the dock, hunching further into her greatcoat as the waves sprayed her with salt water. "Captain! We've got a problem!" She yelled over the wind to the figure at the end of the docks. "The marines say the storm is only going to get worse and departing now is suicide!"

"Noted, Commander!" The woman shouted back. "Seal the ship and make sure the crew is settled before it hits! The last thing we need is someone getting washed overboard!"

"Aye Kapitän! What are we doing with the dragons?"

The woman shrugged helplessly. "We don't do anything _with _the dragons! _They'll _do what they want!"

"Oh." Weiss said quietly. "That seems..."

"Not helpful? Yes." The Captain clapped her hand on Weiss' shoulder. "Get used to it, Schnee. Until we encounter something that needs killing, they're nigh useless." She zipped her coat closed against the growing winds. "Get back to the ship. I've got something to take care of. The helm is yours."

"Aye Captain."

End Chapter -

_Excerpt taken from the Valchan Archives_

_Occidental Dragons_

_ Occidental dragons are not native to the Mourning Continent. Opposed to their cousins on the continent, these dragons are clearly suited for sea travel and maneuvers. While they are capable of travel by air, they are more comfortable in lakes and the sea. Their breath weapon also appears to be an amplified burst of sound, unlike the continental dragons who have elemental breaths. Their magic is similarly potent, though more focused on altering their appearances and allowing themselves to enhance their own bodies against harm. Also, they appear to be the most vicious melee fighters, as their talons have been proven to be able to cut through even other dragons' scales easily._

_ Appearance-wise, they are the smallest known dragons, as the largest has been recorded no more than twelve feet long and five and a half feet at the shoulder. Their scale coloration trend towards blues, greens, oranges, reds, and browns. They also appear to mark themselves with magic, usually as an identifier of their personal rank and to whom they belong with. They lack the distinctive horns that the Mourning Dragons have, instead having frills and fins._

_ Their rank structure is quite small, compared against human military ranks. An individual Occidental is known as a _Deznel_, which translates very roughly as 'younger sibling'. The next rank up is _Dezfa_, which appears to mean 'middle sibling' and responsible for three to six _Deznel. _The second highest rank is _Dezjor_, or 'older sibling' and responsible for three to five _Dezfa_ units. The final rank is _Dezwa_, or 'eldest sibling', which commands a pod that consists of up to three _Dezfa_ units. There has also been another term that has been very rarely heard, _'Quelmar',_ but they have not offered a translation._

_ Occidental dragons tend to be quiet friendly, even towards humans and faunus. Exceptions occur, such as when they are on deployment, but they make an attempt to be polite. Unlike Mourning dragons, they are quite social, as they travel in pods that can number upwards of one hundred and fifty individuals. They also manage their treasure hoards as a group, which can lead to an eclectic mish-mash of items._

_ Notable Occidentals include Summer Rose, the original leader of the host that arrived in Mourning, her daughter Ruby Rose, and Amber Ridge._


End file.
